


Midnight Oil

by Kitari (TwoTonedEchoes)



Series: Crimson and Violet [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Local Man Works Late Has Regrets, Pre-Sundering (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoTonedEchoes/pseuds/Kitari
Summary: A late night conversation between coworkers, in the days prior to the end of it all. Ain't nothing here but some exploratory character development for my favorite Ascians. Implied WoLD is the 14th on the side for flavor.
Relationships: 14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Series: Crimson and Violet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485314
Kudos: 6





	Midnight Oil

The growing crick in his neck awoke him, alerting Hades to the awkward position he had fallen asleep in, nigh collapsed over his desk. With a groan, he blinked back sleep, pushing himself upright in a shuffle of papers and shimmering concept crystals. His mask had fallen away as he slept, but alone in the illustrious office of Emet-Selch, he did not immediately bother to replace it. Rather he fell back against his chair, his hood falling away as well to leave both his fair features and snowy hair exposed.

Scandalous, to be sure, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at the moment. His golden eyes glimmered, reflecting the shifting stars above, clearly visible though the tiered glass ceiling so far above him. A beautiful night, and he had nigh spent the entirety of it locked away in his office. It was not an uncommon occurrence in these chaotic, uncertain days.

Following that thought, his gaze drifted down and out his open office door, settling on the closed and locked one directly across the hall from his own. Not so very long ago, that door as well would have stood open in ever ready invitation, and _she_ might well have been there, even at this hour. Seated at her own desk, she might have looked up as he did, and after ensuring there were no witnesses to be seen, slid her mask away momentarily to spare him a scandalous wink and shared smile.

His eyes softened as he pictured her there, his own lips turning up in the present as he imagined blowing her a kiss in return, weaving a bubbly heart of aether to float across the hall and burst gently against her cheek in a flood of perfume and warmth. He could almost hear her laughter at his sappiness, see her lips form the words, “ _silly man_ ”, as she shook her head in fondness before they both returned to their work with renewed vigor, and a lingering shared smile.

A scene that had played out countless times, and yet one he had never tired of enacting. And oh, how he missed it now. The smile faded as his thoughts returned to the present, and the door across the hall remained closed, the office within sterile and empty. She was no longer welcome therein, having rescinded her station in such anger and haste. 14 were now 13, and there was no _time_ to fill the vacant office, and so it remained empty, a hollow reminder of the schism between them all and the heavy choice they had made.

It was only the first of many high prices they would pay along the path they had chosen, and the ever-present knowledge of the sacrifice that was to come burned as an uncomfortable coal in his breast.

How, oh how, could it have come to this?

He had not yet given up hope of finding another way… but the plans must carry on. Preparations must be made, and it would require all they had and more to ensure all went as planned. Never before had creation on such a grand and lasting scale been attempted, not since those first mythical days of yore and lore when their ancestors had first gained thought, and formed earth of tumultuous star. Those beings who had formed themselves of wild aether, forging sentience and melding into existence the very laws of reality… would _they_ know what caused this calamity, were they still around to be questioned?

In desperation, he had tried to find them, searching the Underworld for traces of the first of them–the most ancient of Ancients–in hopes they might yet hold knowledge of the fell Sound that heralded their doom, but if traces remained still, they did not care to answer his calls.

With a sigh so deep and heavy he felt it within his very core, Hades stood, taking his mask in hand, but leaving the mass of theoretical composites, prototype concepts, and aetherological formulations in a jumbled mess atop his desk. There was little need to see them filed away. He would be returning to them once more all too soon. His shoulders pressed heavy with the weight of both responsibility and the hopes that his people had placed upon him–upon all of the members of the Convocation–and it was with a tired shuffle he made his way down the long, gilded corridor. The people even now believed in their leaders, believed in their ability to find a way to save them all from what seemed certain doom.

He desperately hoped he could prove worthy of that faith.

He had nigh reached the end of the corridor, hand reaching forth to open the grand double doors that led from the Hall of the Offices of the Convocation to the entrance hall of the Capitol when a sound from behind caught his ear. He could not be certain, but it had seemed to be the sound of a concept synthesis failing to catch, followed by a quiet swear. He half turned, looking back down the corridor whence he had come. The hour was unholy late, and tho the Convocation members–dedicated men and women all–had ever been known to work long into the night, surely no others had been fool enough to remain _this_ late…

Or so he thought. From further down, beyond his own office, a faint flickering glow passed into the hall, as of that of a form moving before a dim light. For a moment, he considered shrugging it off, and continuing on, but curiosity got the better of him. Leaving the doors unopened, he turned, replacing his mask and hood as he made his way once more down the long hall. Once he had reached his own office once more, with that of the 14th standing locked and empty across from it, he could make out which of the others the glow emanated from, and it came as no further shock to see it confirmed once he arrived to peer in the open doorway.

The Esteeemed Lahabrea stood, hands pressed to either side of his desk as he leaned heavily, staring down at the shattered remnants of a broken concept crystal. That would be the failed synthesis then. Tho his back was turned, Hades could clearly see the man’s frustration in the rigid set of his shoulders, and the harsh grip of his hands against the lip of the desk. It would seem all was not going to plan.

“The idea, I believe, is to keep the concept _within_ the crystal. ” Hades drawled by way of greeting, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed, “Not to spill it willy-nilly across your desk. Tho I suppose it _does_ make for a fetching conversation piece. Very abstract. _Emotional._ A heartfelt expression of the turmoil of our time. Well _done,_ really. I hadn’t thought you the artistic sort, but I suppose such times bring out the _artiste_ in all of us, ay?”

Lahabrea’s shoulders stiffened yet further at the uninvited intrusion, and it was only the most rigid of ingrained manners that graced him to turn and bow a stiff and most _un_ welcoming greeting in return _. “_ The most honored Emet-Selch,” he said, voice clipped and carefully clear of all emotion, aside from mayhap a touch of annoyance. “To what do I owe the late pleasure of your visit?”

Despite it all, Hades’ lips twitched up into a smirk as he watched his comrade in his careful and meticulous observation of politeness. Even so startled, even with agitation clear at hand, let no man say Lahabrea ever lacked for the right words, the textbook perfect reactions. In gentler times, it had been something of a game for Hades, trying to needle and poke at the man in an attempt to provoke him into loosening that unshakable reserve, and commit a faux pas. Yet tho Lahabrea’s tone often belayed his annoyance, and his body language might turn stiff and sharp, never had his words been aught less than polite and proper. One might as well be speaking to a recording or a retrieval program, for all the variance he showed. As if he was actually _incapable o_ f replying in a manner inconsistent with less than perfect manners and social graces.

It had been an endless source of amusement to Hades, when there was time yet for such frivolity as a bit of light hazing. Not that it had ever come from a place of dislike. Far from it. The esteemed Lahabrea, or at least he who wore the title at present, was an earnest and nigh _bafflingly_ brilliant young man. Far younger than would normally be considered for nomination to the Convocation, in fact. His theoretical work and aetherological postulations had raised many a brow for their unconventional demonstration of universal connectivity and advanced understanding of the nature of elemental convergence. Even as but a student of the Akademia, he had caught attention for his confidence in debating his elders, making himself no stranger to discourse within the Hall of Rhetoric long before most grew bold enough to do more than spectate. Soon enough, he was giving lectures of his own, and drawing no small crowds.

The attention was not unwarranted. His grasp of the very fundamentals of creation were on a level far beyond that which all but the most dedicated of researchers could hope to attain, and yet for him the understanding had seemed to come naturally. Soon enough he had attained professorship within the Akademia itself. His ambition matched his brilliance however, and was not to be placated. When the previous Lahabrea had made her decision to gracefully step away, the young man had put his name forth for consideration, presented with no shortage of letters of recommendation, and documentations of his qualifications.

In the end, nigh the sole detraction against voting for him to fill the empty shoes had been his age. That, and a demonstrated rashness in action. Perhaps due to his seeming instinctual understanding of creation magics, he was quick to use them. Sometimes a bit _too_ quick. This however had ultimately been attributed to a simple quirk of youth, and it had been counter-argued that surrounded by his elders, and with the pressure of office looming above him, it was unlikely to become an issue.

Nor had it, in most cases. It was but one of his few flaws that being so accustomed to his brilliance seeing him through, on the rare occasions when his calculations or theories _were_ incorrect and failure followed, he did not take it well in stride. Thus was surely the root of his annoyance this night. To have not only failed in synthesizing whatever concept he had intended to encapsulate, but to so immediately after have the failure verbalized in so demeaning a manner surely did not sit at ease upon his pricked pride.

Considering how high tensions had been running of late, Hades chose the course of prudence, and relented from any further teasing.

On that matter at least.

Pushing off from the wall, he invited himself further into the office, picking up the shattered crystal shards to inspect them as he answered. “I was curious to see who _else_ could possibly be fool enough to choose their desk over their bed. I was not expecting to find _you_. Have you naught else to do with your time? Surely a man of your age has other amusements to be chasing late into the night?”

Posture rigid and alert, Lahabrea tracked his guest’s movements, the harsh set of his mask giving the appearance of hostility, even when it was not intended. “Even if I were to, would you not agree that those of our station have no time to dedicate to frivolity? With all due respect, Emet-Selch, if I have time for amusement, then I have time for work.”

Hades allowed the man’s words to hang in silence a moment, seemingly more interested in investigating the shard of crystal he held to the light. “Spoken like a true believer,” he said at last, making a game of reflecting a spot of rainbow light onto the desk. “Surely your dedication to our chosen course is unwavering, unrelenting… Unsurprising, given as it was–as I recall– _your_ idea.”

It seemed a hint of relief touched the harsh set of Lahabrea’s shoulders as he nodded. “It was and remains the single best chance we hold. There is no erring from our set course. No room for uncertainty.”

“So you say,” drawled Hades, holding the shard higher. “And yet…” His eyes drifted out of focus as his vision shifted, tracking the paths of aether that had been woven and shattered, rather than the simple sight of the remains. “This concept was for an advanced aetherial binding, was it not? The same sort used to wick away the imaginary phantoms called forth by unsettled children in slumber. Albeit on a much larger scale. How… curious that you might be found working on such a niche application, when you hold _such_ certainty in the power of this… Zodiark.”

He half turned as he spoke, maneuvering the crystal shard in his hand to shine an almost playful splash of rainbow light on the harsh mask of his comrade. The tension returned to Lahabrea’s stance, as his lips tightened into a thin line for a brief heartbeat, before he bowed.

“My esteemed and honored colleague, forgive my indelicacy in bringing it to word, but you will find a strand of your hair has once again escaped its bindings, and is visible for all to see. I would not wish you to dishonor yourself with this indiscretion, plague you as I know it often does.”

 _Keep your mind to your own business._ He could not have said it more politely… or plainly. Hades reached up, pulling the errant strand through his thumb and forefinger. It had ever been a stubborn one. With a sigh, he set the shard back upon the desk, tucking the hair back behind his mask once more before he made as if to leave, only for the movement to stall err he followed through. Rather, half turned, he reached out, placing a hand on his comrade’s shoulder.

“Have care, Lahabrea. We all wish for a solution which weighs less heavy in cost, but you benefit no one by working yourself to the bone in search of one. Go home. Rest. See to your loved ones. All too soon they–” He stopped himself from going on, from voicing it. They all, every one, had those they knew and held dear who would be among those to step forward that final day. How could they possibly forget, even for a moment, when Elidibus himself–

“Get some rest, my friend.” He said again, giving the younger man’s shoulder a soft squeeze as he shuffled off.

It seemed there would be no reply, but as Hades reached the door, Lahabrea turned and spoke again, and for once there was a thread of emotion within it, a plea filled with regret. “Emet-Selch! Please, tell her I–”

Regathering himself, Lahabrea shook his head, and bowed once more. “A good night to you as well, my esteemed comrade.”

Hades paused at the doorway, and then nodded. He would not push. Not on that matter. “Good night.”

In the corridor behind him as he made his way once more to the grand double doors, he heard the familiar sounds of another concept crystal being readied for synthesis. He was not surprised to find his advice unheeded, nor did he doubt in the least that the man would yet be here when he again arrived in the morn. They all had their own ways of coping with what loomed ahead. For Hades however, what was most important awaited him at home, and he would keep her waiting no longer this night. The darkness of night was too great to spend alone.


End file.
